


Stay Golden

by LittleLynn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, jedi master obi, not quite crack but humour, sith apprentice qui
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: To this day, Obi-Wan had no idea how he had ended up with a sith apprentice. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; he knew exactly how it had happened, he had after all, been the one who instigated it. But that didn’t change the fact that his life had become exceptionally bizarre since then.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 142





	Stay Golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kurtssingh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurtssingh/gifts).



> Sorry this took so long Kurt! I hope you enjoy the silliness <3

To this day, Obi-Wan had no idea how he had ended up with a sith apprentice. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; he knew exactly how it had happened, he had after all, been the one who instigated it. But that didn’t change the fact that his life had become exceptionally bizarre since then.

Qui-Gon had been a jedi in the past, Obi-Wan vaguely remembered Dooku taking Qui-Gon on, though it had been peripheral to him, so newly knighted and busy trying to prove himself on the outer rim, taking a padawan had been the farthest thing from his mind back then. But then Dooku had left the order, and taken his padawan with him, and that had been that. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t given it much thought, beyond the fact that he had never liked Dooku anyway, so was hardly surprised he’d turned out to be a renegade. 

But then, after over a decade, Obi-Wan was the lucky jedi to come face to face with an overly handsome young man with yellow eyes and wielding a red saber. Obi-Wan had been ready for the ultimate test of his skill, the sith was young but no sith was to be underestimated, and he knew he would have to work hard to defeat him. 

But there hadn’t been a fight, instead the young man had tilted his head to the side, long hair falling over his shoulder, raked Obi-wan up and down with his eyes, and said ‘I always had a crush on you, Knight Kenobi’. 

Needless to say, Obi-Wan had been dumbfounded, which had made the sith laugh, and eventually Obi-Wan had discovered that the sith he was looking at was Dooku’s apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn. Said sith was looking at Obi-Wan with far more interest than Obi-Wan was entirely comfortable with, but he had decided it was something he might be able to take advantage of. 

Because Qui-Gon, for all of his yellow eyes and red blade, seemed...sweet. Obi-Wan knew that sith were more than capable of great deception, but even after just a short conversation and light probing with the force he could tell that Qui-Gon had a brilliant connection with the living force, an appreciation for all living things - no matter what a contradiction that was - and a very nice sense of humour. 

So Obi-Wan had convinced him - though it had been suspiciously easy to do so - to come back with him to the temple. Qui-Gon was twenty three, had only left the order because his master had done so, and Obi-Wan fully believed that simply given time and patience, Qui-Gon Jinn could be restored to the light. 

He was beginning to doubt himself now though. 

Because Qui-Gon Jinn, his storied apprentice, was currently busy securing them mission information by  _ shamelessly _ flirting with the poor woman working the bar in the seedy joint they had wound up in - Obi-Wan hated tracking bounty hunters. Not that the poor woman seemed to mind, if her blush and the way she was batting her eyelashes at Obi-Wan’s apprentice was any indication. 

Qui-Gon had been with him for four months. Not very long in the grand scheme of things, though Obi-Wan was still disappointed to see beautiful yellow eyes greeting him in the mornings - and then disappointed with himself for thinking them beautiful, for a number of reasons that he did well to not think about.

The woman at the bar laughed prettily at something Qui-Gon had said, and Qui-Gon reached out and laid one of his ridiculously large hands on her arm as he whispered something to her. Obi-Wan decided Mace had been right when he’d called him both hopeless and foolish for taking Qui-Gon on. 

He huffed and looked away, leaning in a shadowy corner of the club and trying to avoid any notice at all as he waited for his overconfident apprentice to return. Once upon a time, Obi-Wan might have gotten a little thrill out of coming to a place like this, with a thumping bass and a sticky floor and people dancing so close to each other it was hardly dancing anymore, but somewhere along the way Obi-Wan had apparently grown up - become boring, Qui-Gon would likely say - and now he just felt impatient to leave. 

When Qui-Gon did saunter back over towards him, commanding far more space than any twenty-something should, and parting the crowd of undulating bodies by his presence alone. Obi-Wan pretended not to stare, knowing the shadow would hide his eyes anyway, they weren’t gold and glinting like his padawan’s. 

“Still hiding in the shadows master, I was hoping I might find you engaged on the dance floor,” Qui-Gon said, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside Obi-Wan, towering over him and making him feel trapped, although it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. 

“As if you would have noticed. Did you get the information we needed?” Obi-Wan attempted to brush him off, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that his sith apprentice actually meant any of the things that he said, he was only trying to undermine Obi-Wan’s own jedi fortitude. 

“Jealousy is a lovely look on you, master,” Qui-Gon then teased, and Obi-Wan tried to release his frustration to the force but still ended up scowling up at Qui-Gon. 

He wasn’t  _ jealous _ and frankly to suggest it was impertinent, Qui-Gon was only trying to ruffle his feathers and get a rise out of him.

“I am no such thing. Jealousy is a dangerous emotion, padawan, the few times I have felt it in my life I have released it to the force to stay properly connected with the light, a technique I wish you would put more - or any - effort into yourself,” Obi-Wan replied, with a voice so calm Yoda would have been proud of him. Though all the little troll did whenever he saw Obi-Wan these days was laugh.

“And yet you were looking at Tama’a like you were going to eviscerate her with your eyes when I put my hand on her arm, what was that if not a hint of jealousy?” Qui-Gon said, looking down at him with a predatory smile. 

“You can’t have seen me!” 

“That was not a denial, master,” Qui-Gon grinned at him, holding out a hand expectantly. Obi-Wan eyed it, and then looked up at his apprentice questioningly. 

“What?” 

“Dance with me,” Qui-Gon clarified, pointedly not a question. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and frowned at his padawan - as usual, it had no apparent effect. 

“We are on a mission, padawan. We are supposed to be tracking down a ring of traffickers, we don’t have time to dance,” Obi-Wan protested, wondering what it would take to keep his apprentice on task for more than ten seconds at a time. 

“Tama’a gave me some interesting intel, our suspect should be back here in the morning. If we stakeout the place just before dawn, we should catch him in the act, so you see, plenty of time for dancing, actually,” Qui-Gon replied deftly. 

“If your new friend knows that much then she is likely complicit and should be arrested,” Obi-Wan muttered, even though he well knew that in these outer rim cities, things were never so black and white. 

“Yet you claim you aren’t jealous,” Qui-Gon teased, and took Obi-Wan’s hand to tug him towards the sticky dancefloor. 

“I didn’t say I wanted to dance!” Obi-Wan protested, focusing on his words instead of the way his hand felt so delicate in Qui-Gon’s grip. He  _ didn’t _ have delicate hands, he was a warrior, a knight of the jedi order; but they certainly felt like it in Qui-Gon’s hold sometimes. 

“No, but you didn’t say you didn’t want to either, which for you when being asked to indulge a little, is as good as screaming yes at the top of your lungs,” Qui-Gon replied, and Obi-Wan felt self conscious when his hand was released, feeling adrift in a sea of bodies with no idea how to behave. 

“These people aren’t even dancing,” he grumbled, feeling his tension beginning to ratchet up. Qui-Gon laughed at him, but it was a friendly laugh, and the smile he fixed on Obi-Wan would have bled the tension from anyone, and he was reeled in by hands on his waist. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

“Well then perhaps this is a lesson I can teach you for once,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan realised his mistake a second too late, as a hand on the small of his back - and when did it get there - pulled him flush against his tall padawan.

“Qui-Gon let go of me, this is highly inappropriate,” Obi-Wan protested, scandalised when Qui-Gon used a nudge of the force at his knees to get him to start dancing - or rather, start following Qui-Gon’s lead, as they... _ undulated _ together. 

“Relax master, you can’t dance if you don’t relax,” Qui-Gon laughed as he undulated their bodies together and Obi-Wan was at least grateful that he hadn’t commented on Obi-Wan’s absolute lack of escape attempts.

“This isn’t dancing, this is a mimicry of, of... well!” Obi-Wan huffed, squirming as Qui-Gon’s hand sneaked a little lower, dangerously close to being firmly on his backside rather than his back. 

“Ahh master, but you need to relax for that activity too, I’d be _mor_ e than happy to help you with that as well,” Qui-Gon leered, a twinkle in his eye, and his chuckle followed Obi-Wan as he flushed bright red and finally extracted himself from their ‘dance’. 

They busted their ring of traffickers, and obi-Wan did his best to tamp down on his knee jerk reaction to watching his padawan in a fight. It was nothing like watching a jedi, though someone ignorant of their ways might not be able to tell the difference. Where Obi-Wan was elegance and deft maneuvers, Qui-Gon was overwhelming force and power. Just didn’t treat combat like a dirty fistfight in a back alley of Corellia; but that was exactly how Qui-Gon looked. He always came out of it a little bloody too, his knuckles, his lip, his nose, even though Obi-Wan knew his padawan was more than capable of getting through all but the most difficult of battles entirely unscathed. 

Obi-Wan distracted himself from the intoxicating picture his apprentice looked fresh from battle, but wondering for the millionth time how he was ever going to convince Qui-Gon to start fighting with serenity rather than passion. But, for all that the council frowned at Obi-Wan’s apparently lack of progress guiding Qui-Gon back towards the light, they all knew that Qui-Gon behaved differently to other dark siders; he channeled his anger, wasn’t a slave to it; he never started the fights, he only finished them; and he had an endless well of kindness for those that deserved it, to counter to dark pit of mercilessness he had for those who hurt the helpless. 

All in all, it wasn’t only Obi-Wan who was confused by Qui-Gon. But it was his immediate responsibility to deal with. He wasn’t sure if it made it easier or harder that Qui-Gon had apparently decided that he was to be a target of his focused kindness, rather than his rage. In some ways, the rage would have been simpler to deal with. 

Or at least, it felt like it would be now, standing stunned as Qui-Gon picked a wildflower, smiled, and tucked it behind Obi-Wan’s ear. 

“This...this isn’t exactly the appearance of a jedi,” Obi-Wan protested weakly, as Qui-Gon positioned the lovely blue flower how he wanted it. It was the same weak protest he gave when Qui-Gon presented him with gifts and sweet treats, things any other jedi would go without - but Qui-Gon wasn’t a jedi, and Obi-Wan hated to see things go to waste. Besides, spitting in the face of Qui-Gon’s kindness would do him no good here. 

“Surely as a jedi what matters is how you behave, and the ideals you fight for, not what you wear,” Qui-Gon countered, and Obi-Wan hated and loved his clever mind in equal measure. 

“That is an oversimplification. As jedi we like to appear uniform.”

“Master, no matter how you try, you will never blend in with the other jedi,” Qui-Gon replied. 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, scrunching his face up in confusion. It was always harder to keep his own emotions off his face around his apprentice, who wore every one of them like a badge of honour. 

“They are to you what a dull asteroid field is to an entire constellation. And no amount of beige is going to change that,” Qui-Gon smiled at him, trailing one of his fingers from Obi-Wan’s cheek bone, through his beard and to his chin, until he had to suppress his shiver. His inappropriate blush, however, was out of his control.

“We have talked about your penchant for flattery, padawan, it is a manipulation tactic not becoming a jedi,” Obi-Wan deflected, moving away from his apprentice and continuing their track across the fields, searching for a wounded endangered animal, they had been asked to save. In response, Qui-Gon let out a hearty laugh. 

“Master you are a prime culprit for flirting with individuals to gain us an advantage, how is that different to flattery?” Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan tried not to feel caught out. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m only friendly.”

“Funny, I never see you being  _ friendly  _ like that with master Yoda. Do you know how I know when you’re flirting, master?” Qui-Gon continued, and Obi-Wan knew he was going to reget engaging in this conversation, but decided to do it nonetheless. 

“How?” 

“Because it makes me want to run my saber straight through whoever you happen to be charming.”

“Padawan!” Obi-Wan recoiled, mildly horrified, though he was somewhat desensitised from the antics of his padawan by now. 

“Oh relax, surely the thing to focus on is that no matter how I might like to, I control myself and don’t.” 

“That is...true I suppose, but we must work on purging these sorts of thoughts from you. If you stop then you know it would be wrong, there must be some guilt there, and that is the first step.”

“Except that the only reason I do stop is because I’m rather certain it would upset you, and you might never speak to me again, which is the opposite of the outcome I would like.”

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan huffed, rubbing at his temples. “You must cease this.”

“Why, when you blush so attractively, master. And I cannot help but point out, that your attempts to get me to stop  _ flattering _ you, have been half hearted at best.”

“Padawan must we do this now? It really is not the time for this conversation, we are at work,” Obi-Wan tried, focusing instead on the currents of the force, searching the ground beneath their feet, ensuring that they were still following the correct tracks, despite their distracting conversation. 

“I suppose, but I think you don’t want to have this conversation, as you put it, because really, you don’t want me to stop,” Qui-Gon smiled, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest only to have a large hand pressed gently over his mouth. “Shh, we have found our quarry,” he said, nodding ahead to the creature they were looking for, licking its wounds by a pool of water. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. 

THey saved the creature, or rather, Qui-Gon saved the creature. Because in his continuation of being contrary to everything the council believed to be true about the dark side, it seemed that his padawan awas not only very at one with the living force, but he was also gifted with force healing. Something the jedi had long convinced themselves wasn’t possible. 

Or, if Obi-Wan was feeling particularly optimistic, perhaps a result of Qui-Gon being successful guided back to the light. Although the yellow of his eyes suggested differently, as did his constant roiling emotions, and abject lack of restrain over things that he wanted. Obi-Wan had never known what it meant to be pursued before, and he could see why so many romance novels revolved around the idea. It was undeniably nice, to feel wanted. 

“Something isn’t right here,” Obi-Wan murmured, coming to a halt in the barren metal corridor. It was empty, far too empty. In fact this entire mission had been far easier than it should have been, and his suspicion was only growing. 

“I agree,” Qui-Gon said, brow furrowed. It surprised Obi-Wan, his padawan so often have zero regard for omens of the future or feelings beyond the here and now. “We should leave.”

“We have a mission,” Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to focus on whatever it was in the force that was giving him that unbalanced feeling. He was distracted, when a hand landed on his arm, fingers easily encircling his wrist. He looked up to find Qui-Gon’s usually soft and carefree face holding a grave expression. 

“We need to leave, master.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan found himself agreeing, something in his padawan’s voice telling him there was no time. 

They were supposed to be infiltrating the ship and picking up plans pertaining to a terrorist cell’s next planned strike, but the ship had been too easy to enter, they had barely seen another soul. Obi-Wan understood suddenly, that the intel that had brought them this far was faulty, and that had walked into a trap.

Qui-Gon had brought him that intel.

But there wasn’t time to think on that, as they turned and fled from the ship, his hand firmly in Qui-Gon’s until they were back in the safety of their pod, slipping away, seemingly undetected. 

He tried to talk to Qui-Gon about what had happened, something about it sitting uneasily in his gut, the truth just out of his sight. But Qui-gon brushed him off with easy smiles, with flirtations that left Obi-Wan blushing and stumbling, and forgetting what he had wanted to say before the conversation had passed. 

Perhaps Qui-Gon hadn’t known the intel was bad when he brought it to Obi-Wan. That was what he wanted to believe, it made sense considering that he swept Obi-Wan from the ship with that grave look and voice that Obi-Wan had never heard on him before. But then, Qui-Gon rarely received premonitions or warnings from the force, rarer still that he paid them any mind; so how would he have known that they needed to leave, unless he had drawn Obi-Wan deliberately into a trap. His eyes were still golden, after all.

But, if the trap was deliberate, why did he then help Obi-Wan to escape it. Round and round Obi-Wan’s thoughts went, unable to settle on any conclusion that made enough sense for him to accept. Qui-Gon dodged his questioning again, claiming that he worried too much, that all that mattered was that they were safely returned to the temple. 

In the choice between open confrontation and quiet observation, Obi-Wan chose the latter, and let Qui-Gon continue, watching his padawan more closely now. He told himself that the choice wasn’t attachment. 

Over the next few weeks, Obi-Wan found nothing out of place, so much so that it was almost suspicious in and of itself. Qui-Gon considered to be his same kind, emotional, impossible self, and his eyes remained golden even as he rescued children. Perhaps because in the same breath he executed enemies with the weakest of excuses, when he well knew they could have taken them in for a trial with minimal risk to their own lives. It seemed that any level of risk to Obi-Wan had become entirely unacceptable to Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan should nip it in the bud, but he had been trying for months, and they had all known returning Qui-Gon Jinn to the light would be a trial of patience, as much as anything else. 

They were on Geonosis, when it all came to a head. Or rather, Obi-Wan was on Geonosis, while Qui-Gon was supposed to be catching up on some of his political psychology. Dooku had captured him, and Obi-Wan tried not to think about how Dooku knew exactly where he would be, nor how bad he had become at sensing dark presences, after his extended time around Qui-Gon. 

Dooku had him levitating in a containment field, stun cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and he was sneering. For a moment, an optimistic moment, he thought that Dooku had chosen to corner and capture him because he was jealous that Qui-Gon had come to Obi-Wan, but then Qui-Gon emerged from the shadows, watching Obi-Wan with the most guarded expression he had ever seen from his apprentice. 

No, from  _ Dooku’s _ apprentice. 

“You see now,” Dooku mocked him, a hand coming to squeeze Qui-Gon’s shoulder as he stood behind his apprentice. He had caught the way Obi-Wan’s expression had fallen, no matter how he had tried to hide it. “He was never your apprentice. He was sent to undermine the jedi, to turn you, or, if you proved too resilient to that, then to help me capture you.”

“Why me? I am but one jedi,” Obi-Wan replied, keeping his face and voice placid, refusing to look at Qui-Gon, even though every word from Dooku had been like a dagger to the heart. 

“Don’t sell yourself so short. You’re a member of the high council, I’m sure there is no limit to what you know of their plans right now. And you’re the pinnacle of their kind, if you can fall, they all can,” Dooku smiled at him, using that voice that made him seem so reasonable, were it not for the darkness swirling around him. 

“I can assure you, you will get nothing from me. Certainly not a fall,” Obi-Wan replied, resolute, at least, in that. 

“You would be surprised how strong a man will break, if the correct pressures as applied,” Dooku replied calmly. 

“This is wrong.” Qui-Gon spoke finally, his voice low and under his breath, so much so that Obi-Wan almost missed it. But only almost, and his eyes flew to Qui-Gon. He was shaking his head, eyes fixed on Obi-Wan even as Dooku whirled on him. 

“ _ What _ ,” he demanded sharply, moving into Qui-Gon’s eyeline. His padawan’s golden eyes hardened, and turned on Dooku.

“This is wrong.”

“We are sith, we do not concern ourselves with right and wrong.”

“But we do concern ourselves with our own desires. And I desire for this to  _ stop _ ,” Qui-Gon said, rounding on Dooku, taking up a more threatening stance as Obi-Wan watched, stunned. 

“I knew when you allowed him to retreat from the last trap that something was wrong. That you had become weak, a slave to your emotions,” Dooku responded, the two of them squaring up, circling each other. Obi-Wan felt useless, there was no way for him to do anything while the power to his restraints was still working. 

“I thought we were sith. We do not control our emotions, we use them. Let Obi-Wan go, or you will see how well you taught me that lesson, my master,” Qui-Gon growled, punctuating his threat by taking hold of his saber, not yet lighting it. 

“You will not be turned to the light, I can still feel the darkness in you. Don’t let your childish  _ crush _ ruin your potential,” Dooku snarled, his fingers crackling with energy. 

“Fear not, master, I have not been turned to the light, you were right at least that Obi-Wan would be unable to do that. What you failed to foresee, was that I would simply prefer his company to yours. Immeasurably,” Qui-Gon replied and Obi-Wan had no idea what reaction was appropriate for the situation when Qui-Gon shot him a wink, but his body infuriatingly decided on blushing. 

“You have never been able to best me in a duel, my young apprentice, something I clearly need to remind you of,” Dooku replied, voice coloured with condescending disappointment. Qui-Gon smiled in response. 

“Thankfully, arrogance has always been your flaw, not mine. I am not afraid to ask for help,” Qui-Gon said, and with one swift move, lit his saber and destroyed the power console feeding Obi-Wan’s restraints. “Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon called, throwing something through the air towards him. Obi-Wan caught it, the feel of his saber familiar in his hands, and lit it, flanking Dooku with his apprentice.

The whole thing had been so quick, Dooku had barely had time to react. His fingers were crackling with lightning, his other hand holding his saber, trying to decide which side prevented him with more of a threat, the seasoned jedi master, or the man he had trained, who knew his every move. 

“He has few weaknesses in his defences. But he will tire faster than either of us,” Qui-Gon informed him, flexing his wrist and moving his saber in an arc as Dooku scowled and beared his teeth. 

“Together then, my padawan,” Obi-Wan replied, Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, and then the three of them met in a clash of colours. 

Even with two of them, Dooku was a fierce opponent. Obi-Wan forced to catch lightning with his saber and watch out for falling debris while Qui-Gon launched the offensive, locked in a fight where both sides knew the other’s strengths too well. But he knew they were winning when Dooku attempted to flee, his movements getting almost imperceptibly slower. It gave them the opening they needed, and Qui-Gon swept his old master’s legs out from under him as Obi-Wan deftly disarmed him as he fell, leaving him pinned on the ground by Qui-Gon’s knee, a red blade at the back of his neck. 

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said in caution, remembering all too well the times Qui-Gon had not stayed his blade. Qui-Gon paused for a moment, two, and then looked up at Obi-Wan with beautiful golden eyes. Obi-Wan felt sure he was about to witness an execution. 

“Could you pass me the stun cuffs, master?” He asked. Obi-Wan’s padawan remained an enigma, entirely unpredictable.

They repowered the restraints and cuffed Dooku, and then Qui-Gon knocked him out for good measure as Obi-Wan huffed.

“I am sorry, master,” Qui-Gon said, having the good grace to look ashamed. It dissipated Obi-Wan’s anger faster than any meditation could have. 

“What matters is your final decision, not your first one. I am glad to have you at my side, and be reassured of your presence there,” Obi-Wan replied, trying not to preen outwardly as Qui-Gon beamed at him. Eyes bright in a way he had been brought up to believe wasn’t possible with the golden eyes of a sith. 

“Was it enough to finally get me that kiss you’ve been denying me for so long?” 

Okay then, not entirely unpredictable after all. 

Obi-Wan on the other hand, could still surprise Qui-Gon. He would savour the shocked, delighted expression on that handsome face as he took it in his hands and pressed a deep kiss to his lips for the first - but far from last - time. 

He would not savour the unbearably smug expression Yoda was going to shoot him for the rest of his life. 

All in all, gold wasn’t such a bad colour to wake up to. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


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